Epica 4 point 0
by Lyaksandra
Summary: The power to save Arendelle does not arise from love, but from the darkest pits of the soul. Five kingdoms set their sights on the Fjord Lands and come hunting for a witch, but in their folly they unleash something far more terrifying.


**EPICA 4.0**

A thousand warships sail for Arendelle. They fly the colors of five different kingdoms. Five monarchies unwilling to tolerate the existence of a ruling witch. To them it's irrelevant that I'm not a force of evil or that my people accept me. Apparently this is a matter of moral principle. Funny that, since the force they are mobilizing speaks of total war and of conquest, not liberation. Especially not from a single witch.

News came while my court was holding council, brought by brave, simple men who rode relentlessly for days in order to deliver them in time. Farmers, blacksmiths, herders, not soldiers. None of them was a man sworn to fight for god and land, yet all of them were more courageous and heroic than those who would see them dead for accepting me.

The council members began frantically talking strategy as soon as they heard of what was coming. I, however, wasn't oblivious to the consequences we would face no matter what they planned. Arendelle may be mighty, but not this mighty. It cannot stand alone against five other kingdoms. Every course of action would end in death and devastation for our people. Every single one but one.

I absconded that very night. My horse took me swiftly under the cover of shadows cast by the clouds under the moonlight. How oddly appropriate that I traveled during the very witching time.

Always the coward, I told no one. No one could know what I was about to do. Was it for their benefit, or mine? Did it even matter at this point? No. I didn't even say a word to Anna, not even a farewell. My precious sister, whom I have wronged so, so much, and was wronging once more. Whose joy, exuberance, trust and reassurance I always drank without ever giving anything in return. Like a thirsty, greedy leech. Perhaps this would be the last time I hurt her.

For two days I've been standing at the junction where the two entrances to the fjord meet, and at last I can finally see them. A sea of ship sails extending all the way to where the eyes can see. I'm afraid. I'm terrified. Good. It's time.

I've been practicing this for some time. Learning how to put myself into the right mindset to summon the coldest flurries. Not quite like this, though. Never did I think I would have to face an entire armada on my own. But I have to. If I can't do this, then Arendelle will fall. God knows what could happen to Anna if that happens. I don't even want to imagine it, but for her sake and for the sake of my people, I must.

The first memory I call into my mind is of that fateful night when I inadvertently hurt my precious little sister. I still feel strongly about it, even after all her reassurances, but this time I don't turn away or shield myself from the feelings, I wallow in them. Next, I remember the day I received the news that our parents had been lost at sea. I try to see every moment of that day, to hear every word Anna spoke to me and how each cut into my heart like a shard of glass. For this to work I must relive the betrayal and abandonment I inflicted upon her. Just as if I were sitting against my door and tasting bile inside my mouth like I did back then. Every sensation adds to the pain in my heart and in turn fuels the magic.

Afterward, I allow the darkest of my imaginations to take full control of my heart. I became so good at this right after I hurt Anna. Picturing the worst possible outcome to every situation was basically second nature to me. Once I allowed myself to do that, everything else was overshadowed. It was like an all-consuming abyss. Exactly what I need right now.

Yes, I can already see it. They will murder everyone and then burn the city to the ground after they pillage it to the last house. And Anna, the Princess of Arendelle, will suffer the most. Because she's the sister of the witch. Heinous, terrible things will be inflicted upon her just because she was ever born. For the sin of coming into the world. Then, after they're through with the punishment, she too will die by their hands.

It's almost like I have been detached from my own body. I can feel my plait becoming undone and then my hair flaring around my head and flying without control every which way. My feet begin losing contact with the ground, and soon enough I can no longer feel anything beneath them. My skin is radiating an intensely blue light. It's the magic, I realize, but I'm no less terrified by the sight. Good, that will serve to fuel it even more. Never in my life have I felt my power demanding to be let out with a strength and urgency such as this. Like it wants to bellow and tear me apart from the inside.

At this point the only thing in my mind is focus. I must visualize what shape the magic must take, lest it goes out of control and consumes Arendelle as well. That's my one concern right now, keeping my kingdom and my people safe. However, it's not that easy. Fighting the North Mountain itself would probably be easier.

I feel the power become an all-consuming monster, like the world serpent in the old legends. Nature itself appears to be recoiling after being bent to my will with such force. The cold flows from me like an endless river, pouring out of every inch of my body. It's like every single cell in me is teeming with frost. For a moment it feels as if I am relegated to being a spectator. I can only watch in awe my own work.

The very air seems to be congealing, turning into fine dust before being replaced by a rush of howling wind. Water becomes ice, then it becomes water again, and then my own ice rises from its depths, aglow with a thousand angry red hues. Its usually pleasant shimmer is now a kaleidoscope of threatening colors sparkling with my own magic flying around it. There is a single instant, no longer than the blink of an eye, when the outpour of energy seems to free itself from my control. Panic rushes through me, almost overwhelming my reason, but I am prepared. I cut the rampaging magic at its root. I think of Anna.

Then, after the next heaving breath I take, it's all over. Exhausted and with lungs burning, I collapse to the ground, my hands and knees sinking in the snow practically at the same time. I can't allow myself a respite just yet, though. There is one last thing I must do before undertaking the journey back to the safety of my city. With a gentle gesture of my hand, I raise a living snowman from the powdery whiteness already lying all around me.

He will be my ambassador into the newly risen West Mountain. Within the behemoth lie those who dared think of trampling everything I hold dear. If they wish to ever return to their own lands and not freeze in the inclement weather inside, then they will agree to the terms presented by my emissary. And agree they will, for the winds they must endure in that frozen hell are far worse than the most frigid storms high up in the North Mountain.

As I stand on weak knees and trembling legs, I notice that my horse is gone. Not really much of a surprise there, but still disappointing nonetheless. Futile as it was, I really hoped when I came here that my visage wouldn't turn out to be so scary when I let the magic out. Well, now I know better.

It's a long way back, so I begin trudging slowly, forcing my wobbly legs to carry me by will alone. Fortunately, just when I have resigned myself to the fate of walking, I see it. A sled being pulled by a single reindeer. Riding it are Olaf, Kristoff, and Anna. My precious little sister. She is waving frantically and screaming my name at the top of her lungs. What a sight for sore eyes.

I can feel the burning tears already welling in my eyes as I fall to my knees, overcome with emotion. Let it never be said that Anna is anything less than the light of my life.

**FIN**


End file.
